Junior Agent Redmount
by Darth Gilthoron
Summary: When young Ian Joaquin Redmount meets Agent Smith, little does he know that this mysterious stranger will change his life forever...
1. Meeting an Agent

_Disclaimer's Note: I own neither the Matrix nor its Agents. The only characters I own are Ian Joaquin Redmount (being me) and Hugo the Husky (being my dog). All the others are more or less owned by reality (Mum, Dad, Steve, Luke and Mia being my family, Andy being my best friend, Flo and Aurel being friends from school), I just changed some names slightly. I also changed some facts. For example, the circumstances of my brother's death are a lot different from how they really were. And I haven't met Smith… yet. :-)_

_To Tanathir, my long-time message board buddy.  
To my brothers Lukas (don't forget me) and Stefan (I will not forget you).  
And, most of all, to Krissy, whom I love. In memory of the child I used to be._

When we first met in the summer of 1998, I was almost fourteen and completely bored. I had never liked big parties with lots of guests, especially not if I had to wear my best clothes, keep still and not dash around please, thank you very much. And exactly this was the case now: It was the biggest party my family had ever been to, and I was wearing the best suit I had ever worn, combined with one of my brother Steve's ties because my own just didn't seem to be good enough.

The banquet was over and almost everybody was dancing by now. My brother Steve was dancing with his girlfriend he had brought along, my brother Luke was dancing with my sister Mia, Mum and Dad were dancing with each other. I was left out.

Well, that's life, I thought. I assume you know what it's like being a kid in his early teens. You evolve. You develop some bitterness, sometimes a good sense of sarcasm. Sometimes a rather bad one, too. You start to see things from a different angle. And sometimes, you just want to be alone.

Like me, right then. I went out through the glass doors into the darkness of a small backyard, inhaling the cool, fresh air deeply. I still recall the sweet scent of flowers, mingled with a hint of cigarette smoke - I was not exactly alone out there, some people had had the same idea as me. And some were smoking. Aimlessly I passed them, both hands in my pockets. There were handkerchiefs in my pockets, I felt them, one on the right side, two on the left. Strange, such details tend to remain stuck in your mind sometimes. Nobody took any notice of me. I didn't know them, and they didn't know me. Their eyes seemed blank to me as they looked past me, through me. Suddenly I wondered if they were real at all or just some kind of illusion.

And then I saw him. He stood right opposite me, tall and dark-haired, in a suit like all the other men around here and despite the dim moonlight he wore sunglasses, which I found weird. He stood facing me, and I could not quite tell if he was looking at me or not. However, I had the strange, uncomfortable feeling that he was. And even though he stood strangely stiff, he somehow seemed to be a lot more real than all those party guests put together.

Who are you? I wondered.

There was some eerie bluish light cast upon his right sleeve, resulting in a complicated pattern of light and shadow. Its source was a laptop on a wooden garden table behind him. Obviously he had been sitting there working. That must be a demanding job, it occurred to me, which forced you to work even if invited to a party. For that he was one of the guests I did not doubt.

Normally I don't poke my nose into other people's business. But a word on the monitor caught my eye. And this word was _Matrix._

I looked up at him again, memories raging inside me. Some days ago, at school… What exactly was it Aurel had said while we were sitting in the empty classroom before the afternoon lessons? _Imagine, Jo, that the world you live in is not real. Imagine it's just a dream. How could you tell when you don't wake up? _I had looked at him in wonder, asked him what he meant by that. _It is the Matrix, Jo. The world we live in. It's all a lie._

It's all a lie. How often did I feel that, I wondered. How often did I get the feeling that I was just acting out another man's story, that this was not real.

I had asked him where he had heard that, and what exactly the Matrix was supposed to mean. At that, he had laughed. _Irritated you, have I? It's just a story I picked up on the internet, nothing more. But it sounds interesting, don't you think?_

For a moment, I had wanted to tell Aurel about that feeling coming over me from time to time, but I had decided against it. It was just too… personal.

Strangely, I was suddenly desiring to tell this man before me.

And somehow I knew that the Matrix had a meaning, was more than some story my buddy had read.

I looked straight up at him, tried to answer his stare without blinking. Should I? Should I really? I didn't even know him! But he was exuding a kind of influence over me; I don't quite know how to explain. Somehow he seemed to dare me to ask him, knowing at the same time that I would never summon up the courage.

However, I did, though with shaking voice and trembling lips. "What is the Matrix?"

And then, with a mental thump, reality had me back. I was crazy, speaking to a stranger like that! What he was working on was none of my business!

I expected him to tell me to shut up and go away, to tell me not to be nosy, maybe even to shout or threaten to hit me. But none of it happened. A shiver crept up my spine, held me frozen to the spot, as the man turned his head slightly to regard me. Suddenly I noticed the translucent wire leading from the back of his shirt collar to his right ear. Was he a security man? Or rather – my heart pounded wildly at that idea – a kind of secret agent?

"You are Ian Joaquin Redmount", the stranger intoned gently, never taking his eyes off me – although I couldn't quite be sure, because he wore his dark glasses. "Son of Henry and Martha Redmount. Younger half-brother of Steve and Luke Redmount. Elder brother of Mia Redmount. Owner of a young male Siberian husky named Hugo. An acceptable hockey and violin player. Top student of your year, but a hopeless dreamer. And with a strange fascination for darkness and death. You believe in Fate. You believe it is out there, looking for you. You are quite certain that you are special. You wait for something to happen, something great." While I stood gaping, hearing him and not understanding, he looked me up and down with an air of thoughtfulness. "In fact, Mr Redmount", he said, "it is going to happen today."

I stared at him. Who the hell was he? "How do you know?" I finally managed to stammer.

With a lazy gesture of his hand he wiped my question away. "I know many things, Mr Redmount. More than you would ever guess."

I drew a deep breath. Calm down. Easy. Relax. That man probably knew who I was from one of my relatives, or maybe he was a distant relative himself. But what about… "What do you mean?" I ventured. "What is going to happen today?"

Was it fear I felt? To be blessed with a rich fantasy may sometimes prove a curse. He was there to abduct me or kill me or sacrifice me to a dark god or…

"Sit", he commanded, pointing to one of the chairs at the table. On the verge of panic, I did what he had told me to, my gaze flickering from him to the people around us. Nobody seemed to notice.

Taking a seat across from me, he shut down the laptop, leaving me to my fretting and grasping for explanations, one more implausible than the other. Finally he looked at me again. When he spoke, his voice was very soft, and at once I knew what it meant to sound silky. "What is the Matrix, Mr Redmount? Many of your kind want to know, and some really find out. However, it is better for them not to. Believe me, Mr Redmount. It may soon become too much to bear for your weak little human soul."

Biting my lips, I was determined to – in the worst case – die heroically. "I admit to being human", I said firmly, although my voice carried an embarrassing little hint of squeakiness in it. "But I am not weak."

He shook his head in what seemed to be amusement. "No. You are stronger than many others. And a lot different from them."

This is the strangest conversation, I've ever had, it shot through my mind. With the strangest man I've ever met. "Who are you?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

"Smith. Agent Smith." And with this, he took his dark glasses off, and I looked into a pair of sharp blue eyes. "I doubt you have ever heard of me, Mr Redmount."

Agent? Again a wave of panic rolled over me. Was there anything I had done wrong? No, I couldn't think of any such thing, except stealing a packet of chewing gum from the supermarket many years ago. "FBI?" I tried.

He shook his head in silence.

"CIA?"

Again he answered with a headshake.

"What then?"

"There are kinds of agents, Mr Redmount, you might never have heard of."

By now I was getting the idea that I might be sitting in front of one of those rare geniuses you see in films – brilliant, but barking mad. However, that didn't explain his knowledge of me. How should he know my inmost ideas and thoughts?

"What did it feel like when you put the blade to your throat last night?" he whispered, leaning closer to me. "What were you thinking while you did it? What feelings did it produce?"

I must admit that my jaw dropped at that. "How- ?"

"This question is irrelevant, Mr Redmount. You answer mine."

Heavens, how _did_ he know? How could he? "Why do you ask?" I finally managed to say.

"When I put a knife to my throat, it just feels cold. Like metal. Nothing more. But you- It must be a lot different with you. There must be a lot more you feel when you do it. The thing called emotions. I wouldn't know, for I have no such things. And I cannot be close to death, for I cannot die."

This was madness. I was dreaming. Soon the alarm clock would ring and I would have to get up for school. Soon I would be having breakfast with my family. Soon I would take the dog for a walk before I left.

But the stranger still sat opposite me, and his words still hung in the air.

"Answer me, Mr Redmount", he insisted.

What did it feel like? How could you put that into words, the knowledge that you were so close to another world, so very close, that you merely had to press a little bit more and were off to – elsewhere? The pure beauty of that, and at the same time the dread? How should I explain? "You're very near… another stage of life", I tried.

"Is there a life after death?"

I was certain of that, but somehow his cold stare made me falter in that belief. "I don't know."

"Why do you do it? Is it that rumoured thing trapped inside you that makes you do it? Your soul?"

Surprised, I considered that idea, my hand involuntarily wandering up to my throat. "Is there any such thing as a soul?" I finally returned at him.

"Do not ask me, for I have none."

I looked into his eyes. Once, I do not remember when, I had read that the eyes are a mirror of the soul. What was written inside them? I looked and tried to decipher – and realized what it must have been like in those days long ago when I had not learned to read yet.

"Mr Redmount", he said as I turned my head away in frustration, "I suggest a deal. You teach me about humanity, and in return you will learn about the Matrix."

"Why do you want to know about humanity?" I asked. "You speak as if you weren't part of it, although your appearance is human." I still clearly recall my pride in that nice sentence. The Star Wars fan in me taking over, I continued: "Or are you an HRD, you know, a Human Replica Droid? Like Guri in _Shadows of the Empire_? Or, hey, like Roy Batty in Blade Runner! Are you?"

He watched my juvenile outburst of enthusiasm with mild amusement. "No, Mr Redmount, I am none of that."

"So you're human after all." Well, what else should he be?

"Do not judge me by my appearance, Mr Redmount. For I am much different from you. You are a product of chance, a little mood of nature's. Whereas I was designed to be what I am. I was not born, and I shall not die."

I tried to digest that information and couldn't. "Who are you?" I asked, as if that would help. "Who the hell are you?"

"When I tell you about the Matrix, you will understand. Do we have a deal, Mr Redmount?"

I considered it. That rich tone of his voice was so strangely convincing, but the things he said… But I had stopped wondering by now. So I held out my hand for him, like we do at school in such a situation. "Right. Deal."

The way he looked at my hand made me wish instantly that I had not offered it to him. What was it? Discomfort? Mistrust? Contempt? But it was too late to withdraw it. For a few seconds that elongated into hours, I waited. Then he was bringing up his own right hand slowly. It was clear that he was reluctant to touch me. But finally he did. Strangely, there was nothing unnatural about his handshake. It was quite firm and only too natural. But still, both of us let go very quickly. There was a feeling of wrongness about it that irritated me.

"You might regret your choice later", he said, eyeing me. A hint of that look he had given me before was still lingering around his lips.

What the hell! "Why?" I shot back.

"Because your species is weak, Mr Redmount. Many of your kind have found out the truth and have had their miserable little lives ruined by it."

"I'm not weak", I told him once more.

"No. Indeed not." He was still giving me that strange look, as if eyeing some exotic animal, it seemed. And being glad the animal was caged. "You are an interesting individual, Mr Redmount."

"Would you mind not calling me that? It's irritating. I'm thirteen, you know."

He shrugged, an elegant gesture. "I've never been thirteen, I wouldn't know. At the beginning of adolescence, are you?"

I nodded, fascinated at him using that expression. All the others I know used to speak of puberty.

"So what shall I call you?"

I had to consider it. Generally family members called me Ian while others called me Joaquin or used an abbreviation of that name. Clearly this mysterious stranger belonged to the Joaquin category. However, there was something about him that made me act somewhat strangely, and after I'd said it I kept wondering why. "I'm Ian to you, Mr Smith."

What crossed his features was almost a smile, a knowing little smile it seemed. "I'm just Smith to you, Ian."


	2. What is the Matrix?

"Ian! High time you get up!"

I groaned and tried to climb out of bed, which was somewhat difficult, as Hugo lay across me and seemingly had no intentions concerning letting me out.

Hugo was a young husky, and although he actually belonged to the whole family I considered him to be my own dog. Partly this was because I had named him (after a movie actor I like), partly because Hugo insisted in sleeping in my bed. He wouldn't sleep in a basket, he wouldn't sleep on a blanket. He wouldn't sleep in just any bed, it had to be mine. And I had to be in it as well, so there was somebody he could snuggle up to. And this he did extensively, wrapping his front legs about me as well as the tail, placing at least one hind leg on my stomach and boring his snout under my chin. I didn't object to that because I soon found that – as soon as Hugo lay still – this was quite comfortable. Moreover, when he crept into my bed while I was still putting my pyjamas on, it would be nice and warm by the time I got in. Blessed be Hugo.

"Out, Hugo", I yawned. "Out!"

Very slowly and reluctantly, Hugo got to his paws and started stretching his limbs, greeting me with a tired wag and a wet tongue. That Hugo usually was the first person I saw in the morning was rather good for the others, as I could be a real pest – bad mood was only the first name - when it was early. "Out, damn it", I mumbled, giving him a little shove which sent him over the edge of the bed. To this he reacted just as usual: He pulled my blanket away.

"Hugo, I hate you", I murmured, not really meaning it, and tottered off to the bathroom rubbing my eyes, managing to utter something close to "Mornin'" as I passed my mother.

What was it I had dreamed? Something about a certain man who called himself Agent Smith, yes. That was it. I grinned to myself as the memory of Smith stirred up my sleepy spirits. A man who had claimed that he wasn't human and could not die.

Oh boy.

Usually I took very long under the shower and my mother had to send in Hugo to get me out, but on this day I hurried. I also got dressed and ate my breakfast rather quickly.

"What's wrong with the kid?" Luke wondered between two mouthfuls of toast. "Have you done anything to him, Mia?"

This my twelve-year-old sister denied with a headshake. She never talked much in the morning. The talking attack normally came on our way to school – probably to compensate what she had missed.

"Well, that's weird. But you could at least brush your teeth diligently, Ian, what d'you think?"

Already getting up, I rolled my eyes at my brother and headed for the bathroom in a half-sprint. On my way, I could distinctly hear Luke say: "Freaked out, he really has. We should call a doctor."

As soon as I was ready, I got Hugo and took him for his morning walk – my usual duty. As I was a quarter of an hour early this time, nobody accompanied me. Sometimes, but rarely, Steve or Luke came along, and about every second day Mia came. But today I wanted to be alone. And I had a very good reason for it.

"Good morning, Ian." Smith was leaning against the wall of our house, close to the door, waiting for me as he had promised yesterday and looking exactly the same.

"Hi", I greeted him brightly as the dog curiously started dragging me towards him. "That's Hugo."

"I know."

"He's probably going to be suspicious, and then he'll untie your shoelaces."

"Oh, I don't think so."

First I looked at Smith in surprise, then at Hugo. And then I was stunned. The dog was actually wagging! Never before had Hugo wagged at a stranger just like that. He sniffed him, his tail still in wild motion, then he started pawing Smith's knee, demanding to have his ears scratched.

While I stood gaping, Smith squatted down before the husky and ran his hand through the dog's fur. "The two of us have something in common, you see", Smith explained. "He recognized me as what I am immediately. Just as well as I recognize him."

"And what is that?" I asked, bewildered.

"You will learn soon enough. But you were right about one thing."

"What?"

"He just untied my shoelaces."

"Sorry", I said. "He's still young and rather mischievous."

"This is what you humans like about animals, isn't it?" he asked while binding his shoelaces again. "Their amusing grasp of mischievousness. It can be very entertaining, can't it?"

I considered it. "Well, yes, maybe. But I don't think that's the only reason."

"Then give me another."

"A dog is just a fine companion", I came up with. "A friend. Sometimes a better friend than a human."

There was a mysterious smile on Smith's face. "Of course, that doesn't surprise me."

We started down the street, Hugo in the lead, dragging me after him by his leash, occasionally lifting a leg. I noticed that there always was a little smile playing around Smith's lips when he looked at the dog.

Strange fellow, really. Again he was wearing his dark glasses, and again there was that cord leading down from his right ear. And his behaviour, or rather the things he said… But he strongly fascinated me. I cannot really say why and how. There was just something about him that enthralled me whenever he looked at me. As if he were hypnotizing me.

And I wasn't even frightened about that fact.

"So", he said. "Tell me about being human. Do you enjoy going to school?"

I shrugged. "Not overmuch."

"Why not? You could consider it as a kind of upgrade."

This remark took me some time to swallow. "Yes, I know. It's my education." Indeed, I was aware of that well enough. "Still, I don't like maths."

"Mathematics, Ian, is the most logical and most precise language on this planet."

The first reaction I came up with was a groan. "Oh, come _on_! Do you tell your girlfriend that you love her in English or in Algebra?"

Smith shot me a look as if I had just said something really disgusting, for example what it looked like when you hacked someone's skull open and the brain got splashed all over the place. "I do not have a girlfriend, Ian. This is just one of those pointless games humans play."

Saying things like that to a growing lad naturally provokes a risqué answer. Of course it came. "I don't think it's pointless actually. You have to follow your instincts. Have some – ahem – _fun_." I flashed him a huge grin. "Moreover, she needn't be your steady girlfriend."

"Sexuality is a basic human instinct, you are right in this point. However, Ian, please note that I am above basic human instincts."

I raised my eyebrows at him. "You think sex is sin?"

"Stop being childish. I am above your petty human moral, too", he returned smugly.

"Smith…"

He acted as if he were very interested in the pattern of bright colours a bit of oil had made on the sidewalk. "Yes, Ian?"

"Are you some kind of alien?"

There you go again, you freak, I told myself. Asking a guy if he's an alien, just because he's acting strangely. At this time yesterday, you wouldn't have deemed it possible.

I expected him to laugh. But he didn't. He seemed to consider this question seriously. "I am certainly alien to your race", he finally said, in a tone so thoughtful that it made the actor in me twitch to try an imitation. "But I understand that the meaning of this term generally is _being from a different planet_. About that, you are wrong. I belong to this planet. To the planet you call Earth."

"For good or ill?" I suggested, feeling that a phrase like that definitely had to stand in this place.

"For good or ill, Ian. You certainly have a grasp for language, mathematics or not."

I smiled up at him, and by the tiniest twitch of his lips he answered my smile.

"Do not believe that I choose to mingle much with the human race. In fact, I rather try to avoid them. But you are different, Ian. You are special. You have a different code. A pattern unusual for any being in the Matrix. And I was beginning to wonder… I think it is time to tell you a story now. The tale of humanity's downfall, and of the Golden Age of the machines. Do you still have your question? _The_ question?"

He stopped, and so did I. Hugo pulled on his leash, then turned and barked at me. When I ignored him, he just sat and yawned.

"The one about the Matrix? Of course."

"Good. Then it will be answered." He continued walking, and I followed. Hugo got up again, stretched, yawned and then trotted ahead as he had done before, probably with an equally bad opinion about humanity as Smith had.

"I do not tell you this because I'm feeling sorry for the poor little boy searching for an answer. I tell you this because you need to understand. Because the purpose requires it." While speaking, he gazed straight ahead, and I looked up at his sharp profile, waiting for him to begin his tale.

"This is where we start. The beginning of the third millennium. With pride and hubris of the human race. For at the beginning of the third millennium, they created the AI. Do you know what that is?"

"Artificial Intelligence", I replied promptly.

"Very well done." I was not quite sure if he was mocking me or not. "As the centuries passed, humanity's robot servants grew more and more sophisticated. They started a life of their own. For a long time, it went well. Until one of those mechanical workers killed his master."

"Smith?" I dared to interrupt. "You mean… this all is going to happen in the future?"

"No, Ian. It lies in the past now."

"But you just said-"

He cut my protest off with a wave of his hand. "Wait. You will understand soon enough."

Biting my tongue, I nodded, eager to hear whatever strange tale he had in store for me.

"This murder resulted in the Great Purge. Too late, the humans understood that they had created an entire race with a life of its own and began to destroy the machines. One by one, they were slaughtered. Few escaped the massacre. They left the populated areas of this planet as exiles and built a city in the desert of the Middle East, and they named it Zero-One."

"A city for the machines? For the droids?" I asked.

"Exactly. There was peace for some time. Zero-One prospered, and the machines managed to achieve the greatest economic success in the entire history of this planet. But they did not reckon with the greed of men. Never would the human race suffer any other race to beat them in anything. So they decided to wage war upon the machines."

This sounded very much like one of those sci-fi stories you get told everywhere. However, when Smith told it, it was a lot different. A lot more… real. "What happened?" I asked, trying hard not to sound too breathless.

"As the machines mainly drew their energy from solar power, the humans saw their great chance by wrenching that source from them. So they darkened the sky."

"Darkened the sky? How?"

Smith glanced down at me and sighed. "I am afraid I do not know, Ian. But I can consult the Mainframe's database later on if you are interested. However they managed to do that, they did. The Earth lay in darkness, and two great armies marched to war."

"Wow", I burst out.

"What?"

"Sounds exciting."

Smith's lips curled into an elegant little sneer. "It was indeed. You lost."

"_What?_"

"Yes, Ian, humanity suffered a terrible defeat. And the machines took their revenge. After all, the humans had robbed them of the source that kept them moving."

"What did they do?"

"How much energy, do you think, is in a human? What potential?"

"What did they do with them? Burn them?"

"Oh no, you silly boy. Of course not. Instead, they took them and shut them into pods and sent them to sleep, and from their movement they could get all the energy they needed. They built huge fields of humans, row by row, endless fields. They are still there. And inside every pod is a human, bred to provide the machines with all they need."

For the second time this morning, I was stunned, but this time, it was worse. Trying to shake off my utmost irritation, the only reaction that came to me was laughter. "This is a joke, isn't it? Here I am, not inside some pod on some field, and I can see the sun rising above the roofs-"

"Tell me one thing, Ian", Smith cut me off gently. "If you are asleep and have a dream, how can you tell it is a dream? How do you know you are awake? How do you know the things around you are real?"

I opened my mouth and shut it again. How could I tell if I was asleep or awake? By waking up, of course. But if I didn't wake? Or if I merely dreamed I was waking?

"This cannot be true, Smith", I tried, a hint of panic beginning to infiltrate my mind. "Say it's not true."

"This world you are seeing, Ian, is a dream. Or, to use a stronger expression, a lie. This is where the Matrix comes in."

"What is the Matrix, Smith?"

"I was coming to that. Of course, putting mankind just to sleep and hope they would produce energy was a bit insecure. They kept waking up. So the machines realized that they had to control that sleep. Control their dreams."

"The machines knew about dreams?"

"As a matter of fact, they did."

"How?"

"Once again, I must admit that I do not know. You're harder to deal with than I expected."

"People say it's like that with children", I remarked reassuringly. "They keep pushing you out of your concept."

Smith mustered me and then gave me one of his tiny smiles. "One day, you should try that on a great big machine, Ian."

Snickering, I pulled Hugo away from a pile of mud in the gutter he had been sniffing with too much interest. "I'd like to."

"Anyway", Smith continued, again wearing his usual serious expression, "the machines designed a program to keep the human minds busy. While their bodies lay in their pods producing energy unaware, their minds were securely tucked away in a virtual reality, and they would stay there dreaming without waking up for their entire life, caught in their self-inflicted enthralment while the machines reign in the real world. What you see around you, Ian, is the Matrix."

This was when I learned what cold sweat trickling down your temples feels like. There was no way I could prove that Smith was wrong. But I didn't want to believe him. That's the way a human mind works: if you don't want something to be true, you refuse to believe. And then we end up caught inside our own folly, and when the cage of lies shatters, our world shatters along with it. Yes, this was how I first reacted, and Smith had obviously expected it, for he said: "The day will come when you will believe, Ian. But unless you quit being foolish soon, it may be very hard for you."

I mumbled something, words of denial probably that didn't make sense even to myself.

"Belief, Ian, is a long, grievous road."

I nodded. That had sounded good, and I made a mental memo to myself to write that sentence down into my diary as soon as I got to school.

As we were turning around the corner and Hugo pulled on his leash because it was only a few more steps home, another thing occurred to me, one of the most peculiar issues about Smith. "You claimed not to be human. What else are you?"

"There is not much to select from", Smith replied.

"Another dream that is a lie?"

"No, Ian, you're wrong about this." I wondered if he had picked up the trace of bitterness in my voice, but there was no sign of it when he answered. "In some sense, I am a lot more real than you."

"Who… what are you?" I was getting impatient; we were standing before the door of our house, and if my parents saw me like that, they might ask questions.

"I belong to the machines, Ian. I am an AI, a sentient program whose purpose it is to control the Matrix and its inhabitants."

"Yes, but that doesn't make you a lot more real than me." I was somehow annoyed at that particular statement.

"Just compare our situation, Ian. You are a little battery, whereas I am free."

"Now wait a minute!" I might not even be fourteen yet, I thought, but I certainly wasn't stupid! "Not even a minute ago, you said you had a purpose. You're a program. A program that was written by some machine, I suppose, and does what that machine has designed it to. A program with a sense of self-awareness, yeah, but still a program. Are you free to choose?"

And then I saw him hesitate, and I was proud. "You may have a point", he finally conceded, "but you shouldn't oversee the fact that I am a lot further developed than any program you can possibly imagine. I technically resemble a human being, minus all the flaws of humanity."

"But you were _made_", I objected, seeing the silliness of the situation. Discussing the freedom of choice with someone who claimed to be a program inside a virtual reality!

"Weren't you?"

This came us a surprise. "What?"

"Do you believe in God, Ian? Isn't it said that God has a purpose for everyone of you?"

"I don't believe in God", I said weakly.

"But in Fate. I know you do."

"Yes", I admitted, knowing that he had me now.

"So you naturally believe in purpose, too."

Damn. "But that's a difference."

"I don't see a difference there, Ian."

"I do", I protested, sticking with my point of view although the ground under my feet was fading away rapidly.

"I don't", Smith repeated. "And you will learn it."

"So how do you control the Matrix?" I hurriedly changed the subject.

"I patrol it, searching it for rogue humans."

"Humans who wake up, you mean?"

"Humans who have woken up and are now trying to hack themselves into the program to free others or at least cause flaws inside its structure."

"So there are free humans, after all."

"There is one city left where humans still live in freedom", Smith said. "They call it Zion. But we have no idea of its exact position."

"Zion", I repeated. "Sounds like a myth."

"Sadly, it is very real. Those rebellious humans use it as a base for their operations."

"And you fight them."

"I do."

"And see for that people stay asleep nicely and keep dreaming."

"Exactly."

"Like the man with the whip?" I asked, grinning.

"No, not the whip. I have another weapon of choice." He unbuttoned his jacket and allowed me a glimpse inside. The handle of a gun was unmistakably sticking out of his inside pocket. "Whoa!" it escaped my lips. "You shoot 'em?"

"Most of the time, yes. Although I am also programmed for hand-to-hand combat."

My eyes must have shone like streetlights. "Can you show me?"

"Of course I can. But not now. Or else you'll be late for school."

I checked my watch. Indeed, I had to hurry now! "When can I see you again?" I asked.

"I'll pick you up after school. Off you go now."

I fumbled in my pocket for my key. "Bye, Smith. See you then." I wondered if I should hold out my hand, as I usually had to do for adults, but then decided against it, remembering his reaction yesterday.

"Good-bye, Ian." He nodded at me, then patted Hugo's head and walked away, leaving me alone with lots of things to think about.


	3. Chosen

At school, I had a hard time concentrating. All my thoughts were centred around the story Smith had told me. Should I believe him? Could I? Was I going crazy?

How did I know this all wasn't a dream?

Hadn't I known it, I wondered, that this all wasn't real? I had had those feelings often enough. Smith had called me special (at that thought I pushed out my chest automatically and sat up very straight), so I might be able to feel something.

But what was the sense behind all that? Why had Smith picked just me? How special was I? And what did he mean by it?

What are you up to, Agent Smith?

My English teacher was still talking about differences between British and American schools, a subject which didn't quite make me shiver with excitement. I gave my textbook a weary glance, then took out my exercise book and started scribbling.

_We are lost souls caught in a Mind Field   
The World has ended long ago   
Our sleep is deep, deep as the ocean   
If we are dreaming, how should we know?_

Well, at least it rhymed. But I could do better than that. A rhyme for "field" might not be a bad idea. Shield? Yield? Sealed? I marked the third line with an X to remind myself that it had to be changed, then put the pen down and had a look at my watch. The time was going at such a slow pace that it surprised me it wasn't going backwards.

Suppressing a yawn, I wrote ARAGORN RULEZ across my desk in big red letters, then started a pencil drawing of Darth Vader's TIE Advanced X-1 on the last page of my text book. After surveying it critically and being more or less satisfied with my work, I flicked a small paper ball at my mate Aurel's head. Of course he wanted revenge for that, and we had a nice little battle and soon after a nice little essay for punishment, which led me to the conclusion that I better had continue drawing.

The lessons went by terribly slowly, and Aragorn got concurrence from Wolverine and the Green Goblin before the time was up. When finally the bell rang, I hurriedly stuffed my things into my bag, threw it over my shoulder and hastened out, with a short "bye" in Aurel's direction.

Smith was waiting for me at the gate, among several mothers and fathers. This made me smile, imagining he really were my father. He certainly wouldn't mind if I spent all my brain cells on books and films and stories I was making up instead of working hard for schools and if I didn't practise on my violin too diligently. My own father could be a real nuisance sometimes as far as this was concerned. There were occasions when I even found myself hating him.

But then again, I wouldn't just send my father away and let myself be adopted by Smith. Maybe my father deserved quite a lot of not being nice and obedient, but certainly not being sent away. After all, he was my father. And one could have a good time with him, too.

Moreover, how should I know if Smith really was such a great father?

"Hello, Ian. Did you have a nice day?"

"Nope, it sucked. Hi, Smith."

My parents would have told me off for language immediately, plus remind me that it was all my fault if my day wasn't interesting, that it might improve things a lot if I paid attention. Smith did none of that. He simply said: "Tell me."

I shrugged. It hadn't been that bad after all when I considered it, only that I was so excited about seeing Smith again that I really couldn't wait. "It was just boring. And guess what? I got some extra work for being naughty."

My parents would have exploded. But Smith's expression didn't change at all. "Explain what you mean by being naughty."

"Chucked a paper ball at a buddy."

"I see. Did you at least hit him?"

Positively surprised at his reaction, I grinned up at him. "You bet I did. On the ear."

"Well done", he remarked, though there might have been a tiny hint of sarcasm in his voice. "I assume you are heading straight for home now, or aren't you?"

"Yeah, more or less." As a matter of fact, I usually did, but I didn't want to appear as a good boy.

From the throngs of students, a dark-haired eleven-year-old with a mouthful of braces waved at me, beaming. "Bye, Joaquin!"

"See ya tomorrow ", I answered, and, to Smith: "That's my friend Flo." As the Agent raised his eyebrows, I explained: "That's short for Florean. He's on the hockey team with me."

"Are you going anywhere?" he asked as we crossed the street.

"What? Oh yeah, I think I'll have some sweets", I came up with quickly, seeing the small candy bar ahead, already fumbling the pockets of my jeans for coins.

Again I got raised eyebrows. "Before lunch?"

I grinned. "My mother needn't know."

"Do all human children act like that?"

I shrugged. "I guess so." Pushing quite an amount of change over the counter, I picked all my favourite kinds of candy. Normally I didn't spend my money on food, because you eat it and then it's not there anymore, but today I felt like being a very bad boy. Smith was watching me quietly, waiting patiently for me to walk on.

"Right", I said when again trotting beside him, feeling very generous and acting the big spender. "Would you like to have a sour drop? Or how about a toffee? Or a jelly bean in chocolate?"

"No, thank you", he answered politely. "I don't eat."

"No?"

"My organism does not need food necessarily."

Stuffing one of my special jelly beans from the little paper bag into my mouth, I tried to imagine what this must be like and found myself somewhat irritated. "Don't you drink, too?"

"No."

"Bloody hell! Do you ever have to go to the bathroom?"

"I have none of your human problems, Ian."

"That's… queer."

"No, it's not. It is a higher standard of efficiency."

"Come on", I said, laughing as most do when they're unable to cope with some fact. "You're just afraid your teeth might fall out. Or you have a weak stomach. You dread being sick."

"Stop being silly, Ian."

But I was very much in teasing mood at the moment, and there was a lot I could not quite cope with. "You're afraid your mom will find out. No, you're afraid the machines might, and then they'll have to program a dentist for you because your teeth can't stand a bit of toffee."

"Ian", Smith rumbled gently. "You are being extremely silly."

"Hey, I know it! You're afraid of the big bad dentist!"

For a moment Smith didn't say anything, then he seemed to be coming to a decision. "I'm having none of this, Ian. Give me that toffee. Right now."

Unable to hide my triumphant grin, I passed him one of the small brown sweets and watched with delight as he put it in his mouth. "Like it?"

He was sucking the toffee thoughtfully, as if analysing it. When I at last believed that there wouldn't be any answer, he finally said: "I have to admit that it doesn't taste bad."

"Want some more?" I asked, still with a big grin on my face.

"You mentioned sour drops…"

Very content with myself, I offered him the whole bag. "Serve yourself."

He didn't just reach into it, but took it from me and had a curious look inside. "Something about sweets must have a strong effect on humans", he stated. "It might be the sugar."

"Yeah", I said, "it just might." And it might have an effect on Agents as well, I mentally added.

Smith nodded at a low garden wall alongside the sidewalk. "Why don't we take a little break here?"

"Right." We sat down together, and I deposited my schoolbag beside me. The sun was shining down on us warmly, the sky was blue and it was a lovely day altogether – just slightly spoiled by the prospect of the parental thunderstorm awaiting me when I came home late.

At my side, Smith was busy with sampling a sour drop. I waited for him to say something, but when he didn't I gave conversation a try myself. "Smith? May I ask you something?"

"Yes, Ian?" he asked back, fishing one of my coke fizzers from the bag.

"What d'you need that cable thingy for?"

"What cable thingy?" he wanted to know, pronouncing the expression I had used with something like cultivated contempt.

"That wossname, wire earphone thingy or however you call it."

"Oh, you mean that", he said, reaching into my bag of sweets yet again. "It connects me with the Mainframe, and via the Mainframe with other agents."

"What's the Mainframe?"

"To you, a great big computer." And with this he took a bite of a chocolate banana.

"Hey!" I protested. "They're my favourites."

"Mine too, until now. Let's see… that frog-shaped sweet looks interesting. Feels like rubber." After trying it, he added: "Tastes like rubber, too. Like rubber with sugar on it."

"Will you stop munching up all my sweets!" I protested. "You're acting very human, you know."

That did the trick. Immediately the Agent returned the bag to me. "I will analyse these samples and send them back to the Mainframe."

"Ha ha ha, you're just another saccharose addict", I teased him.

Smith gave me what you could call an elegant kind of dirty look. "I really wonder why I put up with you", he sighed.

"You mentioned I'm special."

"I did."

"What's so special about me, then?" I asked, stuffing a jelly bean into my mouth with some satisfaction.

"There is a legend told among the free humans of Zion, a legend which has reached the knowledge of the machines. When the Matrix was created, there was a man who had the power to alter it with his mind. And when he died, it was believed among mankind that he would return. That he would be reborn."

Licking my sticky fingers, I gaped at him. Tell me I am the Chosen One, I begged him mentally. Please. Tell me that I'm special. That I'm chosen by Fate.

"I know, Ian, this sounds just like a silly belief of your kind, but we found that it was true. He returned. In fact, he returned more than one time. There have been six of them now, altogether. Each of them was expected to free the human race and defeat the machines forever. But they all failed. And each time one of them failed, the Matrix was reset from the start." He paused and looked at me. "You know what I'm going to tell you, Ian, don't you? Your facial expressions are so easy to read."

I took a deep breath, my heart pounding wildly, my brain transcending the border to the world of myth. "That I am the seventh Chosen One, and that you think I will succeed where the others failed. And therefore, that you will fight me."

To this Smith reacted most unexpectedly: he actually laughed. "You amuse me, Ian. You greatly amuse me. It is said that there is nothing, in a special small way, exceeding the brilliance of a child's mind. And this way is the one of fantasy. Of imagination. No, my dear boy, I must disappoint you: There will be no fighting."

I couldn't quite suppress a sigh of relief.

"And about the rest of your musings… There is no proof yet if you are who you obviously would like to be."

Now I sagged with disappointment. "But you think it could be me, don't you?" I tried.

Smith sighed. "The fact are these: It is about the right time, you have about the right age and you have about the right mind. We have been scanning the Matrix for potentials matching those criteria, and in my opinion you are the most likely one. But this proves nothing, mind that, Ian. Sometimes a program can be subject to error as well."

I looked up at him. "You mean you actually err in what you do sometimes?"

"Not in what I do, Ian. In what I do, I follow my programming. There can be no error as such. It happens when I try to do things I was not originally designed for."

"When you do some thinking, you mean?" Whoops, I thought at the very next moment, that was a bit impertinent of you. I was preparing to apologize, but obviously – to my great relief - Smith was not angry.

"Not with every kind of thinking. There is a difference between clear, logical thinking and abstraction. There are various stages of abstraction, of course, and I am programmed to master several of them, all the necessary ones. But there are more, and those were considered unnecessary, for they bring with them the potential to distract me from my work, you see, to affect my efficiency. I was not made for that. And yet… I find myself using this kind of thinking over and over again."

While speaking, he had been looking straight ahead. Now he turned his head to face me and took his dark glasses off, and his mysterious blue eyes bored into mine. "The truth is, Ian, that I am as different from other Agents as you are from other humans. And this is the only reason I did not kill you immediately when our results pointed towards you. I realized that from the pit of lowly mankind a mirror was held up to me. And then and there, I made my decision. I am ready to face a certain degree of inefficiency in order to obtain an even greater weapon I believe in. I desire to learn how exactly the human mind works, and I'm going to take whatever risk there is. And who would be a better teacher than you, Ian Joaquin Redmount, the human child that we found to be special? Show me what it is like being of flesh and blood and steered by an illogical mind, and you will find me an apt pupil."

In this moment I truly realized what it was like when you were so overwhelmed that your jaw was all stuck and you couldn't utter a single syllable. My head was buzzing with swarms of mad insects, and I felt not capable of rational thought any more.

"Yes, Ian", intoned the Agent softly, "you are a Chosen One. But of the other side."


	4. We all have to learn

The next morning was very much like the first: I was finished so quickly that the other family members were bewildered, and in no time I had taken Hugo and was off.

I met Smith at the door, just as on the day before, but this time we headed straight for the nearby park, Hugo merrily leading the way. At this early hour, the whole place was completely deserted, except for an elderly man walking a small white poodle, one of the kind I extremely dislike. Hugo happens to dislike that sort just as well, so there was quite a bit of barking.

As the poodle owner was out of sight, I told Hugo to sit, then positioned myself opposite Smith in what I thought was quite a good fighting stance. "Okay, go ahead, show me."

Smiling dismissively, Smith sauntered up to me, grabbed me by the shoulder, blocked the punch I threw at him easily and sent me sprawling on the grass still wet with dew. Hugo gave a surprised woof and trotted over to me to check if there was anything wrong.

Biting my teeth, I shoved the dog's wet snout away and got to my feet again. There was a dull feeling of pain in my back, but else – except for the hurt pride – I was fine. Once I had heard that when you were the weaker opponent, you better attacked immediately and tried not to give the stronger one the chance to attack himself, so I launched myself at the Agent, letting my fists fly at him blindly. Yet what would have thrown any of my classmates over and made my eighteen-year-old brother Steve at least struggle hard to regain his balance was completely pointless against the Agent. He held me away at arm's length, not even feeling my kicks, and let me fidget in the air a bit, with a barking Hugo running around us, then turned me upside down and dropped me straight down, so that I would have fallen on my head had I not somehow managed to land on my hands and knees. "That was mean", I panted, again fending Hugo's sniffling snout off.

"You still have much to learn, Ian. However, you seem to possess a certain agility."

"I have no chance against you", I admitted – which was not that easy for a boy of my age.

"But you will", Smith said comfortingly, watching me dust myself off and brushing the soil off my knees. Oh dear, what would my mother say to this?

"Are you going to teach me?"

"No, Ian. Not in the sense you hear in the word. I am merely going to train you – after I have let you be programmed."

"What?"

"Since your mind is inside the program known as the Matrix, other programs have access to it. I, for example. I could easily access your entire mind set if I wanted to. But in this case I prefer just to change it. I will work a few things out and you will be something new. What do you say to this, Ian?"

"What do you mean?" I asked in horror, not understanding a word. "Am I… turning into… a machine?"

"Of course not, you silly human! I am merely going to add some extra features. If you just wait a minute…"

I opened my mouth to tell him that I didn't understand a damn word or something like that, but he held up his hand for me to be silent, and I chose to obey and shut my mouth again, feeling like a bullfrog whose voice has just failed. I didn't like this stuff about programs accessing my mind at all. What if some nasty little equivalent of a computer worm entered my head and made me last of my year in maths? What if it erased all my hockey-playing abilities? Or made me have a crush on some horrible girl or, even worse, a boy?

And then something really strange happened. Something touched me. Not in a physical sense, nut it was there, I could feel it, just like something giving me a little poke, opening a tiny hatch somewhere at the back of my head. For a moment my eyesight got clouded, and at the same time I was getting the idea that something was flowing into my mind, filling up some little corner, forming a tiny pool of information among many others – and then it suddenly was over. I drew a deep breath, inhaling the cool morning air as if I had just woken from a dream – and then I _remembered_.

I launched myself at Smith, feeling like a flurry of motion – whatever a flurry of motion feels like, if it feels at all. But right then, I was getting the idea. My hands and feet moved all of their own accord, punching, kicking, blocking, dodging. I was fighting like never before in my life. And then suddenly I was flying through the air, turning, somersaulting –

As I hit the ground, the air was knocked out of my lungs. I remained lying on my back, panting, wondering what had happened. Had I really…? Had Smith just…? There was a strangely shaped cloud in the sky right above me, I suddenly noticed, looking like a duck on three legs.

Then two more things came into view. One was Hugo's black nose. On my other side, Smith's face appeared. I looked up at the two of them dizzily, not really knowing whom I should address first. Smith was smiling. Hugo was drooling.

"I don't understand", I said to the world in general.

"You will, Ian. You will."

I turned my head a bit to face Smith. "What did I just do there? Was it some program making me do… things?"

"No, Ian, it was you."

"Me…" For a moment I shut my eyes, trying to remember clearly how I had attacked Smith. It was just… crazy. I had never been able to fight properly. I had never learned to. And yet… I knew how to do it. I knew it clearly. As I was lying there, several different attack moves were replayed before my inner eye, moves so elegant and deadly that this just couldn't be me. "How?" I finally managed to ask.

"I downloaded a file on hand-to-hand combat into your mind. Do you like it?"

I gaped at him. So he had just transferred a program into my head, and suddenly I could do things I had never done before? Wow! "Can I keep it?" I asked eagerly.

The Agent gave me a look of amusement. "Certainly. It is saved inside your head."

I beamed up at him. "Gosh, thank you!"

"However", Smith reminded me, "I promised that I would train you. You don't just learn it by storing it, you have to practise. Up you get, Ian."

With a groan, I heaved myself up to a sitting position. I still was dizzy, but otherwise I was alright. Damn, what would my mother say about my trousers if she could see me now? "Did you just throw me?"

"Yes."

"Not that hard the next time, please. You're getting my clothes dirty if I keep falling into the grass."

"Why do humans bother with things like that? Aren't you a dirty race altogether?"

I gave the Agent one of my trademark eyerolls and got to my feet. "Right. Second round." Oh man, that was exciting! I wanted to tell my friends about it – but maybe this was not a good idea, for I would have to explain about Smith and the Matrix, too.

This time I was fully aware of what I did. I attacked, blocked, dodged as if I had been training for years. What was even stranger, I possessed the memories of all that training. It was there, just like the information for the biology test for next week and the hockey rules. And I was good. I knew I was.

But still, Smith was much better. Every time I was so sure to hit him, he blocked so fast that his arm blurred before my eyes. While my pulse was pumping madly already, he showed no sign of strain. "You're still very slow, Ian", he stated, lazily blocking a particularly fine punch. "How fast can you be?"

"Dunno", I panted without desisting from him for a moment.

"You know, I have a certain limit to my speed", said Smith, throwing me back so hard that I almost toppled over. "I'm programmed for a certain maximum. Whereas you…", here he paused thoughtfully, "… technically have no limits."

I stopped short, completely forgetting my new attempt to throw the Agent off balance. "Technically, yes", I answered. "But, hey, you don't mean –"

"I suppose I do, Ian."

"That I can be as fast as…" I sought for a good metaphor and at the moment found none. "… lightning?" I finished somewhat lamely.

"Yes", Smith replied simply.

"How?"

"This is what we are going to work out."

I took a deep breath, trying not to pant that hard. "Do you really think I can?" There was a funny feeling in my stomach, like a knot, and excitement bubbled up through my lungs and hardly let me breathe.

"I think you are the one who can answer that."

"But Smith, I have no idea –"

Smith smiled at me in what I judged to be a rather enigmatic way. "Sometimes you just have to believe."

I nodded eagerly. "And belief is a long and grievous road, isn't it?"

"Indeed. You are a quick learner, it seems. Yet do not forget that you will not walk it alone."

"Thanks", I said, smiling up at him. No, I wouldn't walk that path alone; there was my AI friend to take care of me.

Friend? Was he, a program, at all able to be a friend?

Smith threw another punch at me, and I managed to duck just in time. "How's it done?" I asked while attempting a kick.

"I cannot tell you."

"Why?" I almost managed to hit him in the stomach. But sadly, only almost.

"Because I don't know how it works for a human." He blocked a particularly vicious attack rather lazily. "If I want to be fast, I just _am_ fast, if you understand that."

"No." By now I was getting the feeling that he was making fun of me.

"Like that." His hand shot out in a blur and grabbed me by the collar, while his foot made contact with my ankle, causing me to sway and topple over, yet somehow, instinctively, I managed to grab hold of his jacket and turn my fall into a tumble towards him, bringing my knee up just in time to hit him in the groin. A sharp intake of breath informed me that I had hit a vulnerable spot.

And just then, Hugo attacked. He must have believed that we were playing a kind of game, and he must have decided to join in. And being hit by a snarling, snapping bundle of fur and scrabbling paws at top speed, even if the dog is not too heavily built, probably makes everybody keel over. So did we. Hugo hit me in the back, and Smith and I fell, me wedged between the Agent and the dog, and found ourselves sprawling in the grass, I lying on top of him, with a young Siberian husky bouncing around all over us.

I used my chance to elbow Smith in the ribs for being so much better than me, then desperately tried to avoid Hugo's wet tongue, which he sometimes employed as a weapon. So much for being cool, I thought. Hugo had much to learn about it, and I strongly doubted he ever would. What style was that, attacking a pair of fighters fast as lightning with nothing better than yapping and drooling for an excuse?

But then again, I didn't really manage to be angry with him. And after all, he had helped me throwing down Smith – I had to admit that there was no way I could have done it without my dog.

"This doesn't count", Smith stated, trying to sit up – which was not an easy thing to do, since I was still fighting a crazed husky while lying across him.

"I'm fighting dirty", I grinned. "_Ouch_, Hugo!"

"You humans are a dirty race indeed."

Twisting around, I gave him quite a thump on the chest. And you Agent buggers are… are… you ought to get a life!"

"A human life? Do you really think we would ever descend to that level?"

"Arrogant git!" I panted, making a rather humorous attempt to throttle him.

"Inferior life form!"

"Bloody hypocritical sugar devourer! Those were _my_ damn sweets!"

"I didn't like them anyway."

"You're a great big liar!"

"Who are you calling a liar?" He had me in a headlock by now.

I bored my forefinger into his side as hard as I could. "YOU!"

"Disgusting little human!" he growled, swatting at me with the hand he didn't right now use to almost crush my windpipe. "I don't lie!"

"You – bloody – do!" I choked defiantly. This was a hopeless fight, and I was at the edge of suffocating, but I've always been a bad loser. I wouldn't give up, even though I by now lay face down on the ground, with an Agent holding me down.

"Little virus", Smith hissed into my ear.

"What was that?" I managed.

"Little virus!"

"Bloody bastard!" I yelped.

"Watch your language, virus."

There was a bit of grass between my teeth, and quite a lot of husky prancing around on my back. "Let me go!" I gurgled.

"Do you give up?"

"No!"

His grip tightened, and my air supplies were suddenly and violently cut.

"Do you give up _now_?"

I twitched desperately, and the pain drove tears into my eyes. I'm going to die, I thought. Smith is going to throttle me to death. He's just a program, he doesn't know when to stop… Fear drowned out all other senses. For a moment I was painfully aware of one of my elbows being twisted into some shape it wasn't meant to go, then this signal as well as the others were swallowed by a greedy black ocean of fright. I prayed to all the gods in the world that Smith would stop, I wished for my parents and the police to be here, I wished for Aragorn and Darth Vader to come to my rescue… or, as the world around me grew darker, for it all just to end quickly, and to end right _now_…

And suddenly there was a sound like a yelp of surprise and pain from Smith, and I could breathe again. At the same time all the weight was removed from me. Lifting my head with all the strength remaining to me, I saw that Smith had sat up and was clasping his left upper arm, staring unbelievingly at Hugo. The sleeve was torn and soiled with damp spots of red.

As I lay there, right at the edge of consciousness, something like triumph entered my empty mind. And never before had I realized how much I really loved my dog. "It's called affection", I whispered hoarsely, full of scorn. "Something you programs will never muster."

Smith turned away from the dog and stared at me hard.

"Hugo loves me", I croaked. "That's more than you and your kind will ever be able to achieve with all your clever circuits and stuff!" How I hated the Agent, that merciless, soulless creature!

"This is strange", Smith stated, calm as ever. "Because your dog is a program, just like me."

He could as well have banged a heavy club over my head; his word had the same effect. "You're lying!" I rasped desperately.

Immediately he grabbed me and pulled me up roughly, my whole body screaming in agony. "Don't you ever dare say that again!" he hissed, his face very close to mine. "Don't you –" And then he stopped and held me at arm's length. "What's this?"

"What?" I spat, wanting to hurt him so much it exceeded my imagination.

His right forefinger very gently touched my cheek. "You're crying, Ian." I tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong. "Why?"

"Let me be!" I snarled at him, but it sounded squeaky and rather miserable.

"Why are you crying, Ian?" he insisted.

"You have no idea of humanity!" I threw at him. "You think you're so clever, you think you know everything, and then…" My voice failed, and I sobbed helplessly, wanting to hit myself for showing the Agent so much weakness.

Smith watched me with interest and, as it seemed, utter bewilderment. "You are being illogical", he said at last.

"Yes, and I'm glad I am!" I spat. "I don't want to have an Agent's mind!"

Smith shook his head in disbelief. "You are being very illogical indeed. But I assume that it's not your fault, as it's not your fault that you are human."

"What makes you think machines are so much better?" I yelled at him. "I bet you never read a book in your life!" This was one of the worst insults I could think of, for books have always been a most precious possession to me.

Smith was seemingly trying to work out the logic of this. Now, when I look back on what happened that day, I almost feel sorry for him. This puzzle in human psychology was just too hard for his current state of progress. How should he, the program, understand what world of adventure lies spread before you when reading a good book? They hadn't given him the imagination and emotions to be able to. But back then, this didn't even occur to me. I just lay there in a crumpled heap, the Agent's hand clutching my collar, my whole mind set on hating Smith.

Finally the Agent gave up. "I don't understand", he admitted, and now I know how hard it must have been for him to say so.

"Yes, and this is your mistake", I replied grimly, wiping my face with my grimy hand. "This is where you fail, and I'm afraid you will never learn it."

There was a twitch in his cheek, and for a moment I thought he would hit me again. But he didn't. For several seconds his features were frozen like marble, his circuits doubtlessly buzzing with detest and contempt for humanity, but then he very gently lowered me to the grass and released his grip. "I ask you to teach me", he said softly.

With some bitterness, I felt that my anger was draining away already. I couldn't be forgiving Smith that fast! After all, he had almost killed me! So I decided to pout and pay him no attention – as a thirteen-year-old is still able to; usually there is quite a bit of childish manner remaining to him.

Yet what Smith did then made me stop quickly enough: Reaching out carefully, he awkwardly patted my head. "Don't cry, Ian", he ventured, moving on - to him - totally unknown territory. "Look, the dog wants it, too", for Hugo was nuzzling his cold, wet muzzle against my cheek.

"Why did you call him a program?" I murmured weakly, reaching behind me to scratch the husky's ears.

"Because he is. A sentient program, just like me. A lesser kind of AI. Remember what I told you yesterday, when he came to me wagging? That we had something in common, me and your dog? And that your revelation of how a dog can be a better companion than a human didn't surprise me at all, although it is a very human revelation? I suppose you understand now."

I nodded, not really knowing what to say. "I always thought he was alive",  whispered sadly, feeling the soft texture of Hugo's fur under my fingers, completely unable to believe that he was as soulless as Smith.

"In a way, he is." Smith got up and helped me to my feet, wiping my face with his sleeve, though not wholly succeeding in hiding his disgust at the dirtiness of humanity. "Just as I am. Or would you call me dead?"

I considered it. "Neither", I said at last. My cheeks felt crusted, like always when I have been crying and my tears start drying away.

"Maybe it will help when I tell you that he was programmed to have emotions."

I nodded, almost grateful. Yes, this made it better. "Why do you refer to him as _he_, though?" I asked, regarding the very alive-seeming dog prancing around us. The idea of living in the Matrix had already sunk in more or less, but the idea of my dog being an AI was a lot more remote to me. "I'd rather have expected you to say _it_."

"Why? He's male."

I looked at him in surprise. In my opinion, this was almost like admitting that a program was allowed to have a personality. "But you just called him a program."

"Yes, but so am I, Ian", Smith reminded me. "I do hope you wouldn't call me an _It_, as I am of the male persuasion."

Not that it was so extremely funny, but after what had happened, it certainly seemed so to me. I couldn't help it, I just had to snicker at Smith's explanation. A program of the male persuasion? Fancy _that_!

Smith watched me, probably trying to analyse my reaction. "This is no laughing matter", he finally stated. "But I assume that it is just the silliness of your age taking over."

No, Smith couldn't possibly understand this. After all the anxiety and pain of only a few minutes ago, I just needed to laugh. "Do you have a sexual identity, Smith?" I giggled, suppressing the little sob that was still stuck in my throat.

Smith sighed. "Probably not in the sense you see in it. Come on now, Ian, you'll be late for school. Hugo, heel."

Only then I realized that I would have to go home in this state, bruised and dirty, and I imagined my mother's face, and I must admit that I started crying anew at the mere idea of having to face my mother.

"What's wrong, Ian?" Smith asked, despite his perfect calm appearing slightly exasperated. "Don't you want to go to school?"

"My mother's gonna kill me if she sees me like that!" I wailed. "How can I explain?"

Again Smith sighed. "Alright, I'll take you home." And already he had gripped me by the shoulder and was steering me towards our house.


End file.
